


Getting a clue

by Elphen



Series: Another Angle [3]
Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Dracula: Prince of Darkness, Innuendo, M/M, Popcorn, lewis is being oblivious, semi-nakedness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-13
Updated: 2012-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-31 02:58:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/339115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elphen/pseuds/Elphen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes there just isn't enough innuendo in the world to get a man's attention</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting a clue

**Author's Note:**

> I know, horrible title, I suck at coming up with them. If you've got a better suggestion, please let me know.

James doesn’t seem to notice that his boss is staring at him. Almost pointedly does not give any indication of noticing. Nor does he seem to acknowledge that he is semi-naked. He calmly walks to the table, puts down the soup carefully so as not to spill and walks back into the kitchen to retrieve the utensils, his hips swinging from side to side just enough to notice. Notice – it’s all Lewis can do not to bloody gawk at the way that bottom moves under the soft lilac-coloured material!

When they’re both seated, Lewis trying to balance the bowl on his blanket-encased knees and Hathaway holding his bowl in his hands given that he’d burn his knobbly knees if he uses them as table and the table itself being too far down for his back to accommodate, the brunette internally debates whether to bring up the attire, or lack thereof, between mouthfuls of soup. It’s good, he decides as he accidentally slurps his next spoonful, the soup. It doesn’t taste like something out of a carton. But then again, it would fit with James to claim that it was store-bought when it really had been made by him. Perhaps a long time ago, frozen down in portions, but still – he had been very quick to get it out the bag, after all.

As he finishes the last dregs of the thick liquid, Lewis glances over to James, who of course sits primly and neatly, the spoon a constant, but very proper pendulum from bowl to mouth and back again. Apart from his Spartan choice of clothing, he could not be more... _proper_. As taken straight out of a book of etiquette, probably one from Victorian times. This is probably deliberate too, as is most of what James does, though Lewis much prefers when he isn’t deliberate. It calls for some interesting situations from time to time, bad as their shouting matches or good as when they’re bantering and James lets out a spontaneous, though rare, laugh. Or for situations that could either be both good and bad or neither, as The Incident.

Not much use of beating around the bush, really. He has never been very good at it, despite his line of work, and when he tried it today, look what happened – he’s ended up being sick, even if the bit about the stomach flu is actually a lie.

“James.” Despite the liquid he’s consumed, his throat is dry and his voice comes out as more of a croak. The blonde looks at him impassively. He coughs and tries to clear his throat. “Sergeant, what exactly are you doing here? This definitely goes above and beyond the call of duty, not only checking in on your boss when he’s sick, but sharing his cure with him, risking getting infected. Not only that, I don’t believe I will ever be able to write ‘would make an admirable swimsuit model’ on your resume, even though it’s true.” There, that will have to do for balancing between straight-forward and subtle.

“Why, sir, I do believe you managed to pay me a compliment,” is all he gets as an answer, together with a small, cryptic smile that sends a slight shiver down Robbie’s spine. Hathaway stands up, holds out a hand for Lewis’ bowl and proceeds to the kitchen, once again swaying his hips lightly as he moves.

He returns with two empty mugs and a freshly brewed pot of tea that must have been getting ready as they were eating. After putting them down on the coffee table, he grabs the box set that has been sitting between them the whole time; he unpacks it, selects a DVD after a moment’s deliberation and pops it into the combi DVD/Blueray player he convinced Lewis to buy a few months ago. Then he goes back to the sofa, grabbing the remotes on the way, and plops down heavily; he almost dislodges his now rather loose towel as he does so and it’s more than a little difficult for Robbie to keep his gaze anywhere but at the other’s longs legs, creamy thighs and...other things he’s desperately trying not to think about.

So instead he does his best to keep his gaze locked on the action on the TV-screen, where the DVD menu is now showing that Hathaway has indeed picked out a Christopher Lee movie – Dracula Prince of Darkness, to be precise. The inspector has to once again wonder why this is happening, because there is no reason, given how tense things have been since Saturday between the two. Well, okay, the soup and medicine may be Hathaway’s way of...not apologizing per say, the man never apologizes for anything if he can help it, but at least an acknowledgement that they’ve been off, both of them, and they should use this as a means of getting on and going back to normal – if only they could! But the towel – the towel just does not fit into a patching-things-back-to-usual-jumble scenario whatsoever. It can only be a reference to last time he was here, but as Lewis has himself more or less convinced by now that to think of it as anything more than purely accidental is foolish and delusional – to think like this is much safer for his heart, really – there really is no point to it. Not unless it really is a prank but it would be a malicious one and for what purpose? Hathaway just isn’t that cruel, he has to believe that.

But it seems that he will not be informed of the younger man’s intentions either way. As oft before, when he comes to think of it. The Hathaway Mystery strikes again.

“Why are we watching old Hammer Horror, lad?” he asks, thinking that this might at least get an answer. “And please don’t give me the education-bit. It’s getting a bit old – and for all you know, I could have been at the pictures watching this when it came out.”

This gets him a snort. “With all due respect, sir, I don’t think any parents in Newcastle would have allowed their pre-teen son to have gone to see such a movie – and don’t for a minute try to convince me you were naughty enough to sneak in without their knowing.” A wink follows this surprisingly cheeky remark and James curls his legs up under himself on the sofa, clearly in an attempt to get comfortable before he starts the film.

“Perhaps not,” Lewis concedes with a smile, strangely glad to at least have a semblance of their banter back. Yes, best to go back to what was known – safer for both. “But why, sergeant?”

Now there’s a deepfelt sigh. “Must you question everything, sir?” Hathaway even shoots Lewis an exasperated glance, as if he’s being stupid and ruining the moment. Without another word, he presses play and refuses to meet Robbie’s gaze as the opening scene slowly fades onto the screen.

 

 

About an hour later, they are seemingly both intent on the film. James have paused it once to go and make popcorn that he had also brought along – Lewis had to wonder if that shopping bag has magical qualities, because he could have sworn it had been empty – with the rather weak explanation that you can’t watch old movies without old movie snacks and brought back a large bowl filled to the brim with the buttery small balls of fluffy nothing. But he has refused to let the older man have any of them, saying they are too salty and buttery for an upset stomach, which in Lewis’ opinion is frankly codswallop. But he’s too drowsy and comfortable - well sorta, anyway - to argue and he also has to admit to a strange fascination with the way the long, spiderlike fingers pluck a single kernel from the bowl and pops it into the waiting mouth, the continuous process of this having left a trail of buttery glisten along the lower lip. There’s even the way the tip of the tongue occasionally flicks out to get rid of this trail, but the owner of that rather sinful tongue seems completely oblivious to what he’s doing, eyes trained on the screen.

Okay, so maybe Lewis isn’t strictly watching a film that, if he’s brutally honest, hasn’t aged all that well with the effect but is still pretty decent, but how can he be when his sergeant is being so very...very erotic.

There it is, isn’t it? The whole crux of the matter. Until Saturday, he would not have thought of Hathaway in that sort of context at all, Loaded and Yorkie bars aside, but he is coming to realize that, even though nothing would come of it, he fancies his DS. Fancy, huh? Just goes to show his age. But a tiny little shift and everything is different, a new way of looking at things. How did that bloody song go again? Something about the change in you being bittersweet and strange? Well, ain’t that the truth, eh, lad?

A small shift and he finds that without his being aware of it, James has actually tilted and has been using his shoulder as a pillow for long enough that the shift makes Robbie aware of the warmth that has just gone. Well, if this evening doesn’t get weirder by the second.

Best ignore it. The lad is probably just tired, no wonder he’d look for the first thing that can be used as a pillow, although a shoulder isn’t the most comfortable of things at the best of times. But then, if he is tired, why has he bothered coming round at all? There is just nothing that makes any sense anymore, so there’s no point in trying to decipher it all and work it out. He’s officially entered the Twilight Zone and all he can do, it seems, is brace himself for whatever is to come.

This does not entail that when he feels something soft and slightly moist on his neck he isn’t surprised and doesn’t jump slightly. There’s that crackling feeling in the air again and Lewis is struggling to keep breathing normally. That being said, he’s struggling not to let out a slight moan – he has mostly forgotten that his neck is one of his sensitive spots and one of Val’s favourites, too. Desperately he tries to think of something to lighten the mood, which isn’t made easier by Dracula trying to feast on Diana on the screen.

“Sergeant, we really should have your fondness for vampires examined,” he says and bloody hell if it doesn’t come out as something like a gasp. “Or do you just fancy yourself as a candidate for the next Dracula movie?”

There’s no verbal response, but Lewis can suddenly feel teeth grazing the bit of his neck just below the jaw. He jerks back, but does not succeed in dislodging the by now insistent lips. “Oi! Lay off it, lad, this joke has stopped being funny.” Never really was funny as much as just downright cruel, he adds to himself.

Next thing he knows, Lewis is being pinned down by a very strong, very much scantily clad and very definitely angry Sergeant James Hathaway. Blue eyes are glaring at him as if he’s just accused James of being an ignorant illiterate snob.

“This, sir, is not a joke. This is me being tired of being subtle about my attraction to you. This is about the fact that I like you and I want you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't shoot me for ending it there. I had planned to finish it with this part, but it got away from me and I wanted it up before Valentine's, so you'll have to wait for the smex 'til next time. Hope you'll enjoy this until then - and happy Valentine's day, everyone.
> 
> Oh, also - I did fall into the trap of mentioning that bloody Disney song. Sorry about that.


End file.
